


The Mistweaver's Spire

by TootsMcgee



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TootsMcgee/pseuds/TootsMcgee
Summary: Clan lore for Clan Atrox Attero and the Mistweaver's Spire, from the pet browser game Flight rising.
Kudos: 3





	1. Arrival

They'd been flying for hours. 

They had crossed through the storms of the seemingly endless Shifting Expanse, over the Sea of a Thousand Currents, and now they were flying over the Windswept Plateau, giant kites in the sky above, rocky spires protruding from lush forests beneath. The wind here was soft, warm, whimsical. 

Sanguine hated it. 

But perhaps it was far enough for now. He looked behind him, to see a group of tired, struggling dragons flying in his trail. His brother Silas was closest, at his side as always, as he had been for years.  
“Sange.” Silas panted, his wings barely keeping him adrift. “I swear if we don't take a break soon I'll have a fit.” he pretended to swoon in the air, making a dramatic gesture with his wing on his forehead. He lost balance as a result, flapping his wings clumsily to get back into position, Sanguine frowning with bemusement. His brother had always been a bit of a frivolous brat, but judging by the state of the others, he might have a point. 

“Fine.” Sanguine nodded, putting his eyes dead ahead once more. A great spire appeared in the distance, and it looked like it was inhabited. They could rest there, and restock supplies for the rest of the journey. “Over there. Follow me.” Sanguine said, starting the descent. 

The spire was like a vibrant little town, the buildings up top scattered all over the rocky ridges, lush growths preventing the making of real paths, but any real Wind dragon didn't need something as mundane as paths. As they got closer, they drew many curious stares from the dragons that probably inhabited the spire, but they were not stopped or questioned, the group flying into the main area up top, a large natural platform that lent itself perfectly for useage as a courtyard or square. It was surrounded by shops, market stands and a small temple. In the middle there was a natural spring, it's crystal clear water carving it's way out in a small stream that eventually formed the smallest waterfall Sanguine had ever seen, as it finally reached the edge of the platform and clattered off the side with a gentle continuous noise.

Tired and thirsty, the rest of his clan also touched down and immediately began drinking from the spring, himself included. He made sure he had his fill before he looked up to investigate his surroundings closer. But by then they'd attracted quite a crowd, inhabitants, shopkeepers and visitors alike having come to watch them, curiously inspecting their guests. 

“You in the habit of staining someone else's water with your taint straight after you arrive?” 

The deep voice that sneered at them was monotone, yet vicious. Sanguine looked around to find the owner of the voice, seeing a shadowy spectre of a dragon looking down upon them from the temple roof. Deep purple eyes peered at him from above a dark mask, curious and yet condemning. 

“Oh is this your water?” Silas was, as ever, ready to sneer back. “I don't see your name written on it anywhere.” he met the Shadow dragon's relentless stare with a look of ire.  
“It's not just ordinary water, you stupid plaguespreader.” the dragon on the temple roof uncoiled himself, his shape revealing that he was a spiral. One jump and he glided gracefully down to the courtyard, landing in front of Sanguine and Silas. “It's our sacred spring. It's water is only used for special ceremonies.”  
“Yeah? Well there wasn't any ceremonies going on so how were we supposed to know?” Silas rebutted. He threw his head back with arrogance, Sanguine unwillingly reminded of the way their mother always did that, in almost the exact same way. 

Where would she be now, he wondered. Was she still alive? Was she still the furious, prideful creature he once knew? He hadn't seen her, or heard from her, in years. Shifting his weight from his left leg to his right, he was reminded once more of their duel so long ago, that had left him crippled. The injury had never healed properly, leaving him with a scar and a limp. He'd come to accept both as part of himself over the years, but on bad days just looking at the scar gave him the urge to tear his own leg off. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a loud hiss, seeing Silas and the shadow Spiral about to jump eachother. He supposed he should really intervene, they needed a place to rest their wings for a few days and he couldn't have Silas get them thrown out. But before he could step in, a voice echoed over the courtyard, light and clear as the water that ran in the spring. 

“Shen! That's enough.” 

Heads turning towards the entrance of the temple, the crowd bowed to the Spiral that had come out of it's main gate. They were a bright mix of mauve, jade and every colour in between, eyes of the purest green, the air seeming to dance around them. Large curious eyes looked at Sanguine, smiling mysteriously. Their horns glowed a spirited light green, their hide shimmering with markings in that same colour. This was a being of great power and wisdom, even if on the outside they looked like just another spiral dragon. Sanguine guessed they were an entity, a spirit of wind. He'd gotten a knack for recognizing power throughout the years. 

“Alexius, I was just-” the shadow spiral, apparently named Shen, backed away from Silas, with a reverent bow. Who- or whatever Alexius was, it was clear that everyone here had a lot of respect for them.  
“They are just weary travelers, Shen. Let them drink. What good will the water do just running off the spire like that?” Alexius approached them with a light hearted smile. Sanguine bowed lightly to them, nudging Silas to do the same. Silas did not neglect to roll his eyes before he followed suit.  
“Thank you, Alexius. I apologize for the misunderstanding, we never meant to offend.” Sanguine spoke diplomatically. “My name is Sanguine, and this is my brother Silas. We lead our clan together. Sometimes.” the snarky remark at the end had Silas scoff, but Alexius seemed to enjoy it, their smile growing wider.  
“Be welcome, Sanguine. I am Alexius, and this is my clan. Please forgive Shen's caution, he's very passionate about protecting this place. I'm sure you understand the importance of protecting a place that is home to you.” Alexius said, their body dreamily suspended just above the ground. They seemed to be levitating effortlessly, their wings not moving at all.  
“Once we find a home, perhaps that will be a sentiment I can relate to.” Sanguine said politely.  
“Ah yes, you have lived a life on the go. You are a survivor, Sanguine.” Alexius' eyes gleamed shortly with a jolt of power. Had they seen his past? How did they know? No, any idiot could see that he'd lived a life of travel, of hardship. He had the scars to show it. 

“Ah, but you must be weary from your long flight. You may rest in our caverns. It should provide you with everything you need. And if not, there's not a thing we don't sell or provide up here.” Alexius smiled warmly.  
“Alexius-” Shen protested. “Surely you're not thinking of letting them stay? They're plague. They'll bring trouble before long.”  
“My spire is a refuge to all, Shen. What would've happened to you if I'd turned you away? What will happen to them if we refuse them a simple place to rest their wings? How will it reflect on us?” Alexius spoke calmly, patient like a teacher would speak to a pupil. “Do you understand?”  
“Yes, master.” Shen bowed his head, a little shamed.  
“You are a bright young dragon, Shen. But you must learn that sometimes your eyes can cheat you. Appearances can be deceiving.” Alexius smiled gently. “There is far more to these dragons that meets the eye.” they glanced at Sanguine with a knowing look, Sanguine wondering what Alexius saw. 

“Zephyr, will you show our guests to the caverns?” Alexius called, a young ridgeback quickly making his way up to them. Sanguine couldn't quite place the feeling, but he thought there was something familiar about him. Or it could just be because he was tired from their long journey.  
“Of course, master Alexius.” Zephyr spoke with a voice like a light breeze, pleasant on the ears like a windchime. “Please, follow me.” the youngster bowed to them and then showed them the easiest way down, guiding them to a natural cavern below the spire. It was perfect for a short rest, a river running nearby and the dense bamboo forests would provide them with plenty of food. 

“Here we are.” Zephyr said, proudly. His pale green eyes glinted with life in the sunlight, his striped hide perfect camouflage for hunting in the forests that were below the spire. He looked young, energetic, healthy. Sanguine hated that he couldn't think of who he reminded him of. Like the thing you know you've forgotten to do but you can't for the life of it remember what it was. How annoying.  
“Thank you, Zephyr. We'll manage from here.” Sanguine said.  
“Are you sure? I can answer some questions, if you have them.” Zephyr said, hopeful. “We don't really get whole clans visiting often. Especially not Plague clans.” he was obviously curious but did not want to admit it outright. “My father came from Plague, but he says he'd never go back.”  
“Look kid, we're tired.” Silas intervened. “And we don't want to talk about where we're from or where we're going. We'll be out of your spines before you know it, so just leave us alone.”  
“Oh. I'm sorry.” Zephyr recoiled a little, his spines lowering submissively. “I'll leave you to it then.” he was quick to turn and leave, Sanguine throwing Silas an annoyed look.

“What did you do that for? He was only curious.”  
“And annoying.” Silas argued. “This place give me the creeps. Everyone's nice. It's just not natural.”  
“Imagine being nice.” Sanguine frowned with irony. He watched Zephyr disappear into the cloudy top of the spire, a strange hollow feeling nagging at him. He had the feeling he knew him. But how was that possible? He'd never been to the Windswept Plateau before. And yet..  
“Oh come on brother, don't be a spoilsport. He's just a kid. You used to love bullying kids.” Silas grinned widely, sticking out his tongue at Sanguine. “Or have you gone soft?”  
“I've gone tired. Shut up.” Sanguine grumbled, walking into the cavern. 

There were plenty of little alcoves for them all to roost, and he picked the largest one, liking to have space for himself. Of course space was a relative term with Silas roosting in the alcove just below him, but at least it was better than sleeping in an open, unprotected clearing. Come morning, he would have a good think about where to go next from here. For now, all he wanted was to sleep. 

“Hey Sange.” Silas' voice sounded from below, just as Sanguine was about to doze off.  
“What?” Sanguine growled in annoyance.  
“You ever think back to mom?” Silas asked, for once, not trying to annoy him. Sanguine was caught off guard by the genuine question. He was expecting something stupid to come out of Silas' mouth. But just this once, his brother sounded melancholic.  
“Yes. Quite often.” Sanguine replied honestly.  
“You think she's alive still?” Silas asked.  
“I'd be surprised if she's not. An emperor could not best her if it tried.” Sanguine said.  
“Old age can catch up with anyone.” Silas argued. “But I'm inclined to agree. We're closer to Plague territory than we've been in years. Think she'll come find us?”  
“I certainly hope not.” Sanguine said, genuinely. “Now can I please sleep?”  
“Of course. Good night, brother.” Silas yawned.  
“Good night, Silas.” Sanguine mumbled, laying his head down and curling his tail around his weary body. 

The morning would bring clarity.


	2. By the river

Early morning, dew still on the vines, Sanguine set out for a walk through the nearby bamboo forest. It was the one moment of the day where he'd be unbothered and alone, Silas still soundly asleep, and if he knew his brother, he would stay asleep until at least noon. Sanguine could not sleep that long anymore, he couldn't lie still long enough without pain in his scarred left shoulder. He stiffly stretched it as he walked out of the caverns, the sun just rising. He shook off the dust he'd gathered over night and headed over to the river to rinse himself clean. His scales had suffered on the long flight and he needed grooming badly. The quiet, early morning was perfect for that, Sanguine sitting himself down by the river after his bath. 

It'd been a while since he had any personal time, Sanguine enjoying the peace and quiet, the water rushing in the river and the rustling of the bamboo in the wind while he groomed himself. Perhaps this place wasn't as terrible as he'd thought at first. Lazying in the morning sun after his grooming, he picked up movement a bit further down the stream, lifting his head to see better. 

It was Zephyr, Sanguine recognized his striking green markings. He appeared to be fishing, head snapping down into the stream occasionally and coming back with his prize. He carried a great basket strapped to his midriff that was half full already. Quite the skilled fisher then. Sanguine watched, not wanting to disturb the young ridgeback in his activities, secretly envying his strenght of body. It'd been a long time ago when he could hunt like that. Zephyr noticed him, cocking his head curiously, Sanguine nodding solemnly as a greeting. Zephyr returned the greeting, then resumed his fishing with a bit more vigour. 

His wet, verdant green hide glistened in the sunlight, a certain grace to his step as he walked up stream gingerly, holding still and tensing his muscles, ready for the attack. Sanguine watched with intrigue, Zephyr striking quick as a flash, coming back out of the water with a triumphant grin and a giant rainbow trout between his teeth. Sanguine smiled, not unimpressed. Zephyr was clearly competent, and showing it off too. He wasn't expecting the youngster to come over to him, but he did, still dripping wet, the trout still in his mouth until he dropped it gingerly in front of Sanguine, head low, a bit a cautious of his reaction. Sanguine just looked at him, placing one long nailed claw on the fish and putting it out of it's floppy misery, admitting that he was a little bit flattered. He granted Zephyr a small smile. To think he could be the object of someone's fancy in this poor state.

“Thought you might be hungry after a flight like that.” Zephyr said. “Alexius said you came from far.”  
“Thank you.” Sanguine said. “I am quite hungry, actually.”   
“Enjoy.” Zephyr smiled, glad to see his offering be accepted. He left Sanguine to eat in peace, which Sanguine very much appreciated. The last thing he needed was for someone to watch him eat.

Instead he got to watch Zephyr show off his fishing skills some more, which wasn't exactly a punishment. Sanguine watched with attention, noticing how Zephyr kept glancing over to see if he was looking at him. His grin grew wider every time their eyes met, Sanguine catching himself in an indulgant smile as well. A strange little flicker started in his chest, spurring on an instinct he didn't know he had. He could perhaps not show off his hunting skills, but when he rose and stretched, he made sure to unfurl his wings to their full capacity, flexing their overworked muscles despite the strain it caused. He pretended to yawn lazily, curling back up on his little perch but he was far more aware of his position now, making sure to move with purpose and grace.

“I'll bet you were quite the hunter, before that injury.” Zephyr said, obviously admiring him. Sanguine smiled. “So I was. But it did not last long.”  
“Why? What happened?” Zephyr asked, curious. Sanguine shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. It would only lower Zephyr's opinion of him.  
“I'd rather talk about you.” he diverted the subject.   
“Me? I don't see how I could possibly be of interest.” Zephyr said, ceasing his fishing and joining Sanguine, if at a respectful distance.   
“Tell me anyway. Then I'll decide for myself.” Sanguine invited him, Zephyr accepting with an open expression. He helped himself to one of the fish he'd caught, quickly devouring it before he started his story. 

“Alright.. Well, I was born here, on the Spire. I've not seen much of the world, but I've heard many a tale from travelers coming through here. I serve Alexius at the temple, as their right hand. I make sure the pantry is well stocked and that there's money for our expenses. I guess I'm sort of a quartermaster.” Zephyr said. “Though what I'm catching today is for my parents' stall, at the market. You might have seen it when you arrived. You caused quite the commotion, by the way. Everyone's talking about you.”  
“Good.” Sanguine grinned. “I like making a memorable impression.”  
“Well you've certainly succeeded at that.” Zephyr chuckled. “So..will you please tell me about yourself? I'm mighty curious.”  
“And very bad at hiding it.” Sanguine said, although he couldn't help but find it endearing.   
“Sorry.” Zephyr grinned with a sense of guilt. “I've just never seen such a powerful looking dragon before, and I must confess myself a bit intrigued.”  
“Alright, very well.” Sanguine caved, flattered by the interest and the compliment. Zephyr settled in for a good story, looking excited, Sanguine side eye-ing him with a cheeky smile, one Zephyr returned. 

“Well, I was born in the Scarred Wasteland, to a clan called the Bloodborn. I barely knew my mother, and my father I never met. I wasn't in the clan for long. My mother stopped caring about me after two days. She left me and my clutchmate to fend for ourselves, to prove we could survive. Before long, I sacrificed my little sister to the vultures so I could eat them.” Sanguine gauged Zephyr's reaction to this crude retelling of his first days, but the youngster was fascinated, looking at him in awe. Sanguine frowned, surprised. He'd expected him to recoil, look disgusted, perhaps call him heartless. But Zephyr did none of those things, though he did look horrified.   
“That's awful. I'm so sorry your mother did that.” he said.  
Sanguine was so baffled he couldn't think of what to say next, blinking sheepishly. He'd never been pitied for his past before. Reviled, sure. He knew how to deal with that. But compassion? Never.  
“Well- it's.. it made me stronger.” Sanguine managed to mumble.   
“Stronger perhaps. But did it make you happy?” Zephyr asked, with eyes that looked too wise for his age. Sanguine recoiled, the question hitting too hard, too fast. 

“That's no business of yours.” Sanguine rose to his feet, lip pulled up in a snarl, defensive walls being pulled up. Zephyr lowered his head cautiously, taking more distance from Sanguine.   
“I'm sorry. I was too free. I'll listen quietly now, I promise.” Zephyr apologized. Sanguine considered it, a spark of irritation still in his chest. But the irritation wasn't aimed at Zephyr. He was only curious. A bit too familiar too fast maybe, but he wasn't malicious. No, he was annoyed with himself for how quickly he turned into a defensive, angry beast. 

Into _her._

“It's.. fine.” he sighed, strained. He shook his head and relaxed his claws, that had dug into the sand.   
He forced himself to calm, breathing deep. Zephyr relaxed as well, though he remained careful. Sanguine laid himself back down, trying his best to look unfazed, but he suspected it was a miserable attempt. Still, Zephyr had the good sense to remain quiet, only observing him. He was right though. It hadn't made him happy. He thought it had, at the time. After all, what was there to strive for but survival and power? Although perhaps that wasn't all there was to life. Sanguine saw it in Zephyr's eyes. Life, joy, freedom. He had a choice. He'd always had a choice. 

Sanguine leaned closer, the pale green of Zephyr's eyes drawing him in. Zephyr lightly cocked his head, but did not draw back. He looked curious, but to what, Sanguine couldn't discern. He flinched slightly when their noses gently touched as he leaned in a bit too far, but it was enough to snap him out of his thoughts. 

“You've seen much.” Zephyr said, again with those wise eyes. “The darkness is in your eyes. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just..well I want you to know I think you're very strong, for going through all of it. And if you ever think you're ready to talk about it, I'll be right here.” he smiled kindly. Again the sympathy that Sanguine had no idea how to handle, so he just nodded.   
“I oughta get back up there. The catch's gotta be fresh.” Zephyr stood up, shaking off the sand that had stuck to his wet hide.   
“Come see me up top sometime.” he invited Sanguine, before taking off and leaving a very confused Sanguine to his thoughts. 

When Sanguine returned to the caverns, Silas was finally awake, although he was still lazying about on his roost.   
“There you are. Are we leaving yet?” Silas asked, head hanging upside down from the ledge.   
“No. Not yet.” Sanguine said. “In fact I think we'll stay here for a good while still.”  
“Aw, what?” Silas complained. “You mean I have to actually go interact with the locals?”  
“They're not so bad.” Sanguine said, with a little smile.   
“'Not so bad'? Who are you and what have you done to my brother?!” Silas frowned, the movement almost causing him to almost fall out of his nest. Sanguine rolled his eyes and started to explore deeper into the cavern. If they were staying, he'd better get to know their new lair. 

And maybe, just maybe, he would indeed visit Zephyr up top.


	3. Dissent

The Spire's top village was bustling with traders, visitors, and locals there to shop for their daily needs. It'd been a while since Sanguine had been in such a busy place, feeling a bit uncomfortable, noticing he was drawing attention from the overall much smaller dragons. He knew Zephyr's parents owned a food stand, but there were so many in the bustling tiny streets he kind of lost his way. The smells coming from them was making him hungry though.

The afternoon sun beamed down on the busy alleyways, colourful banners asking his attention everywhere he passed. They all advertised the stands they belonged to, like bright colourful billboards. It'd just rained this morning and the sandy path was still a bit damp and muddy, Sanguine sinking down with every step he took. It aggrovated his old injury, having to work harder to even just walk. 

Finally, he found it. Zephyr was standing at the side with a tired smile. No wonder, if he'd been up since before dawn to fish. His catch from this morning was laying on display, on a bed of ice to keep them fresh. Odd, where did they get ice here? Sanguine hadn't seen any ice dragons around yet, and the frozen icefields were too far to transport ice from without having it melt.  
“Hey, you actually came!” Zephyr smiled happily when he noticed him.  
“Was that in doubt?” Sanguine frowned.  
“No, I'm just happy to see you.” Zephyr said, genuinely. “Welcome to my family's little business.”  
“It's indeed very...little.” Sanguine agreed, looking over the little stand, which was in front of what he presumed was their home, hewn out of the rock of the spire, just like all the other houses in the street. It looked like it was just large enough for a ridgeback to stand upright in.  
“I know, it's not much, but it sustains us. We're happy with what we have, and it's a good life here.” Zephyr said, not offended. “My father's just gone to get us some other supplies we need for tonights dinner. Do you want to come in?” 

“Oh, no thank you. I'm fine.” Sanguine said.  
“Too soon huh? I'm sorry, I get like that.” Zephyr smiled apologetically. “How have you been?”  
“Well, thank you.” Sanguine appreciated the self reflection, smiling amicably. “Yourself?”  
“It's been busy. I help Alexius a lot and then I also have to help out here. It's a tough job to juggle it all.” Zephyr said. “Or should I just say I'm fine? Is that the well mannered way?”  
“No, I appreciate your honesty. You seem like a hard worker.” Sanguine said, in earnest.  
“I suppose I am. I won't deny that I envision a more exciting life for myself eventually though.” Zephyr confessed. “I've read books about monster hunters, a life on the go, helping the people get rid of the most terrifying monsters? Now that sounds exciting to me.”  
“Forgive me for saying so, but you don't strike me as a fighter.” Sanguine noted.  
“I'm not. Not yet.” Zephyr grinned. “But my mother is going to teach me! She's a fearsome warrior from an old nature bloodline. She tells me stories of how her grandfather fought a great battle in the Icefields, where she was born.”  
“Ah, so she's the one keeping your food fresh.” Sanguine nodded, understanding.  
“She is. But she's been through a lot. She fought hard in her younger days, and she just wanted somewhere to settle and have quiet life with my father and my siblings.” Zephyr said, a fond, loving look in his eyes. It was clear he cared about his family a great deal. A feeling Sanguine had never known. He caught himself wishing he could be closer with the family he had left. Perhaps he really was going soft, just as Silas said. 

“Zeph?” a deep, powerful voice spoke, both Sanguine and Zephyr looking up. From Zephyr's home walked a tall ridgeback, her hide as green as forest, her antlers reaching far behind her head, that was tilted back a little bit due to their weight. Sanguine's blood turned to ice at her stare, piercing platinum casting their gaze right through him. Her eyes were not the same colour, but her facial structure and the antlers she grew had Sanguine shudder with the realization that the bloodline Zephyr mentioned was one he was very familiar with. He looked at her and saw him. 

Athelstan.

The realization grabbed him by the throat and took his breath away, his heart shrinking in his chest. The likeness was uncanny, there was no doubt. He stood frozen, baffled, staring at her as she greeted her son, unaware of the disturbance her presence had caused.  
“Mom, this is Sanguine, the leader of the clan that arrived here two weeks ago.” Zephyr introduced him, oblivious of Sanguine's discomfort. “Sanguine, this is Ziray, my mother.”  
“Pleased to meet you.” Ziray smiled, her wizened eyes friendly. Of course, she had no idea who he was. She'd never met him. This put Sanguine at ease somewhat, and he bowed his head.  
“Honoured.” he said, respectfully. His eyes lingered on her antlers, which were very impressive in size. Is this what Athelstan would've looked like as well, if he hadn't interfered? He found himself not wanting to think about that subject. He'd destroyed a beautiful young life and there was nothing he could do to change that. He was a plague dragon, it was kill or be killed. Use or be used. Being ruthless was the only way to survive. He believed it. He had to believe it or be lost to despair. 

“I know. They're a bit of a chore at times.” Ziray saw him looking at her antlers, but was obviously proud of them as she said it. “They're a gift from the Gladekeeper. Her magic runs deep in our line, even if I was born in a different territory.”  
“I think they look beautiful.” Sanguine said, as politely as he could. If she knew what he had done to her relative, she would kill him on the spot. He might even let her, with the wave of regret that washed over him. “I'm sorry, but I can't stay long. I promised my brother we would scout the forests below for more plentiful hunting grounds.”  
“Aw.” Zephyr pouted a little bit. “That's a shame. But please don't be a stranger.”  
“Thank you. I won't. It was lovely to meet you, Ziray.” Sanguine bowed his head again, hearing his mother snap at him for showing such subordination in his thoughts. Leaving, he saw Zephyr looking at him with a concerned frown, but if he knew what was good for him, he would stay away before Sanguine would ruin his life as well. How cruel of fate to place someone he liked in his path and have them be related to his greatest regret in life. 

Perhaps Karma really did exist.

Back at the temporary lair, Silas was waiting anxiously, hopping from one foot to the other.  
“You're late.” he snapped, as Sanguine struck land in front of him.  
“And?” Sanguine frowned.  
“I don't know what's gotten into you, brother, but we agreed that we would be gone from this place in a few days. It's been two weeks.” Silas said, obviously annoyed. “And you're planning on staying here even longer. We were supposed to head back home!”  
“What does that even mean anymore?” Sanguine scoffed. “We've been on the run for so long that nowhere is home to me.”  
“To you, maybe.” Silas said, headstrong. “I miss it. The heartbeat of the land under my feet, the warmth of the bubbling pools, the green haze that coats everything in a dim light.” he sighed, wistful. “It's where we belong, Sange. Regardless of the struggle that awaits us, we have to fight for our rightful place. Our home.”  
“Since when do you make the decisions here? I've lead us this far, I think I can go a little bit further.” Sanguine said, irked.  
“It's my life too, Sanguine. And that of others in our clan. I'm not the only one who thinks we should be moving on by now.” Silas replied with held back anger. “Besides, your decision making has been rather poor, lately. I thought-”

“-Thought what? That you could talk me into doing something stupid, like turning myself into an abomination?!” Sanguine snapped, his voice mighty as he raised it and growled. He lashed out, Silas flinching, but the bite was never meant to hit him, so it didn't. Sanguine just wanted to put him in his place. He'd had enough of the whining, of the incessant talking, the constant pushback he received from his brother. 

Silas looked hurt, angry as he hissed back. “How dare you, I am stronger than you'll ever be!” he snarled, but did not lunge back.  
“The Banescales were sealed away for a reason. They were weak. For someone who values our home so much you sure don't seem to uphold it's values, rejecting the form that you were granted on birth, the one gift our mother saw fit to bestow us. She made us stronger than all the others, and you rejected that.” Sanguine spat.  
“Adapt. Survive. Overcome.” Silas said, repeating the values. “I adapted, brother. Whereas you'd rather stay weak, crippled. The day will come where you can't threaten people into obedience with your words anymore. And when that day comes...well you'd best beware.”  
“Are you threatening me, you little snake?” Sanguine narrowed his eyes.  
“Not so little anymore, brother.” Silas challenged. “It's time you started taking me seriously.”  
“I will.” Sanguine said, raising his head with eyes full of disdain. “When you stop being a joke.”

Silas fell silent, his ruby eyes glinting with rage, his lip pulled up, sharp teeth showing. But he had no reply for Sanguine, silence tense between them. They'd drawn a crowd, other members of the clan looking on tensely. Sanguine tried to gauge their moods, their alignment in the argument, dark eyes scanning the crowd. He felt how interested some where, their judgemental eyes upon him. He hadn't noticed the dissent until now, so in a way Silas was doing him a favour with this. Now all that remained was for him to stamp this fire out before it truly got going. He stalked towards Silas threateningly, holding eye contact. Silas boldly stared back, defiant as always. 

“You'd better believe I will be ready when that day comes. I suggest you step back in line and learn your place. I lead this clan. You're just a parasite. Always have been.” he said, his voice low, threatening. “And if anyone else has a problem with me leading, feel free to speak up now.” he called, seeing some onlookers shift uncomfortably. Sanguine allowed the moment to become awkward, the silence dragging on as Silas looked around for support but received none, most dragons resuming their previous activities. Eventually Sanguine scoffed. 

“I didn't think so.”

He turned his back on Silas and walked into the lair, head held high, not showing how his heart beat in his throat. He'd never imagined he would have to worry about a betrayal that was so close to home. But he would be ready, if Silas tried it again. He sighed, finally out of sight of the others, climbing to his roost to rest and think for a bit. 

He didn't notice the gleaming red eyes that watched him from the darkness, a bright rage burning inside them..


	4. Decay

“How dare he.” 

She was furious, raging like a fire. A beautiful, spirited fire, her eyes ablaze. 

“He talked down to you like you are not his equal, no- his superior. You are younger, more able, more open minded. More fit to lead.” she spoke with a voice like a crackle of lightning, rough, sharp.

Khadiyah. She stood proud as she faced him, unwilling to back down. Proud, strong. The very embodiment of what a dragon should be. Her muted red hide carried the markings of a warrior, scars, but also her natural markings that made her look ruptured, light red and very dark red mixing in an aggressively striped pattern on her body and wings. Silas had been instantly smitten with her when they met for the first time, only a few months ago. She'd joined the clan and had initially not attracted much attention to herself, but she'd made silent friendships with a lot of the dragons over those few months, asserting herself as a reliable companion, if sometimes harsh. Firm but fair, she was a fearsome fighter, strong willed and stubborn. 

“You saw what happened.” Silas said. “I was foolish to think they would betray him. I should have prepared better, but in the heat of the moment I thought I could pull it off.”   
“The old bastard's been their leader for a long time, it won't be easy to convince them. We need to talk to them, one on one. Be subtle about it. Bring up the argument, apologize. Win their sympathy. Speak to their imagination. So many of them want to return home, I saw it in their eyes.”   
“I know. I saw it too. And I don't want our daughter to grow up here, in this throwaway lair, this land plagued by cutting winds. What if she gets it into her head that she wants to make kites?” Silas shuddered. “No, she deserves to grow up in a territory suited to her needs. If we cannot convince them, I promise you we will leave together, my love.”  
“So we shall. But we must try. There is strenght in numbers, and we need those numbers if we are to establish a presence in the Scarred Wasteland.” Khadiyah stated. 

“Do you think Seth could make the trip?” Silas wondered. Their firstborn was sleeping on her nest behind them. She was only a month old, but young dragons grew quickly, and she stood to about half of their size already.  
“If she cannot, she was never meant to make it.” Khadiyah said. “Such is the way of the Plaguebringer. We must not coddle her.”  
“Of course.” Silas agreed. “I would never.” He, in fact, would. But best to not bring that up right now.

“Besides, she shows signs of your blood already. If it persists, she will easily make it.” Khadiyah said, not worried in the slightest, Silas smirking at the compliment.   
“But she has your pride and determination.” Silas said, in an attempt to flatter his mate, who smiled coquettishly.   
“Of course she does.” Khadiyah stated, matter-of-factly. “She's a combination of the best of us both.”  
“You are the best part of me.” Silas said, still as smitten as the day they met. For the smallest moment, Khadiyah's face softened, and she rubbed her head against Silas' neck lovingly. He loved her always, but even more in these very rare moments where she allowed herself to be vulnerable. Silas returned the gesture, but froze when he saw noticed they were being watched. 

“Gross!” 

Seth had woken up and was obviously displeased with her parents' show of affection towards eachother, her nose wrinkled as she stuck out her tongue. Silas smiled at Khadiyah, who rolled her eyes, the last of her smile disappearing. She headed over to the nest to berate Seth for listening in on them, Silas watching them with a feeling of strange melancholy. Once, all that had mattered to him was his brother. He'd looked up to him, did everything for him, forgetting himself in the process. Khadiyah had reminded him of his worth. Supported him as he learned to re-assert himself. She gave him a goal. A family. They were his priority now. And if Sanguine wouldn't accept that.. a part of him hoped he would. But he knew better. No, his course was already set, despite a part of his old self wanting to return to the way things were before. But he had a responsibility now, and he had to rise to it. 

It was time to put their plan into motion. 

-

Sanguine did not feel good about leaving the lair unattended for a longer time, especially after that argument. But something pulled him northwards, called him towards the border of his old homeland. Something primal, something mystical that tugged at his very core. He wouldn't call it his heart, but it was something ancient, something that he had always known and yet didn't. 

The bamboo forests and cliffs gradually turned more orange and yellow, the domain of the Plaguebringer slowly but surely advancing over the borders. Dead, dried out bamboo lined the very edge where the ground turned to dry, ashy brown sinew. It was on this edge that his calling lay. From the skies, he searched, circling the area. For hours, he skirted the border, drifting on the sickly warm winds that blew into the Wastelands. 

He didn't know if it was exhaustion, but it seemed like the very land beneath him was starting to move. He looked closer, seeing that oval puddle he'd seen a few times now shift and boil. The very thin green liquid was hardly as toxic as what you'd find near the wyrmwound, this looked more like water with a flim layer of algae on top. 

And then it blinked.

Sanguine nearly fell out of the sky when he saw it, doing a double take to be sure. But yes, it actually had blinked. And it did it again, it's dry fleshy edges pulling shut in an almost cringing motion before opening again, this time releasing it's contents as it did so. He'd never seen a puddle blink before, so he had to quell his curiousity, flying down to investigate. He had forgotten how alive the land itself could feel, the ground groaning as he approached the large puddle. It was boiling hot with pestilence, even this close to the border. Like a miniature wyrmwound, almost. 

“You have come at last.”

A bombastic voice shook the ground and Sanguine froze, eyes quickly scanning the environment. There was nobody around, he was certain of it.   
“The answers are not always in plain view, Sanguine.”  
“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Sanguine said, looking around, ready to defend himself.   
“You are known to this land, and the land whispers to me. It's been a very long time, child of the Blood.”   
“Reveal yourself. I have no time for games.” Sanguine snapped, impatient. For a long moment, nothing happened, green puffs of poisonous air releasing from a gheyser far away. Sanguine was not concerned, a child of Plague could withstand the lands' natural defenses. He was more concerned about where this voice was coming from, staying alert to signs of danger. 

Then, with a great heave, the pool opened, parting to reveal the entrance to an underground lair. The liquid bubbled and spattered, sloshing into an invisible barrier. Powerful magic filled the air, the taste of metal on Sanguine's tongue. 

“Enter, friend.”

Sanguine warily looked at the putrid liquid as he passed through the entrance that had just appeared, ready to jump up and fly off if it turned out to be a trap, but nothing happened. He entered a narrow tunnel where the floor squished under his feet as he walked along. The smell of the lair might have put off anyone not of the Blood, but Sanguine found himself nostalgic. It smelled of decay, of damp rotted leaves, and the sickly sweet smell of the pools of acid. The smell of home. 

Inside, the lair's walls were covered in sinew, that seemed to breathe and move as he passed. He felt like a hundred eyes were upon him, but he saw none of them when he turned his head to check behind him. Still, he cast a warning frown at whatever was watching him. 

“Be welcome, Sanguine.” the voice was closer now, Sanguine focusing his attention on it, ready to strike if need be.   
“So you have answered the call at last.” Sanguine looked around to see the source of the voice, stepping onto something warm and soft, which grabbed his attention. He inched back and saw two pale white eyes blink up at him, like they had just woken up. With a groan that shook the lair, a large serpentine body started to unravel from the very floor itself, sinew breaking apart to reveal an imperial dragon, face scarred over, their blood red mane long and unmaintained, their wings and body tattooed with mystical drawings of eyes and bones. 

“Were you..merged with the cave?” Sanguine wondered, seeing bits of sinew still stuck in the imperial's wild mane.   
“I was. I have been for so long it feels strange to be confined into this body again. But I suppose it would be rude not to face the first guest I have had in years.” the imperials voice was deep, bombastic, but with a rawness to it. This might have been the first time in all those years it had to use it's vocal chords.   
“Years?” Sanguine frowned. “Wait, how does that work?”  
“I spent years alone, communing with the land. Eventually I became so adept at it I simply.. merged with it. Now I can do it at will, but it takes a lot of concentration. But that's not what is important. You're here.” the imperial spread out their wings, the crudely inscribed magical markings blinking as they watched. The 'eyes' didn't even really look like eyes, more like crudely carved spiked circles with a dot in the middle, but they did send a shiver up Sanguine's spine as they focused on him. The imperials face was not quite directed at him, and Sanguine realized only now that the dragon was blind. 

“Yes. I see.” the imperial spoke.”You have suffered great pain.”  
“Doesn't take a genius to conclude that.” Sanguine frowned. “Was that supposed to impress me?”  
“You are impressed, Blooded One.” the imperial spoke without a doubt. “You were wary as you entered my lair. Every muscle in your body is tense, ready to fight. Rest assured, I would not be much of a match for the firstborn son of Wretch.”  
Sanguine froze at her name. There was no way the imperial could have known that without-  
“I see not who you have pretended to be all these years. Rather, I see who you are. I see your blood.” the imperial said. “But I suppose it is rude to read your blood without first introducing myself. I am Rowan, seer of the land of the Plaguebringer. Pleased to meet you.”  
“Who..what are you?” Sanguine adjusted his question. Rowans blind eyes darted for a moment. 

“I am ancient. A wanderer. A seer. A soothsayer. A witch. I am all these things, and more. Only The Plaguebringer knows what I truly am. I no longer remember which of the previous is true.” Rowan said, his wings closing themselves. “You have come because you heard my call. Because the land called you.”  
“Well, something called me, yes.” Sanguine reluctantly admitted.   
“You can not deny the call of your blood, child of Wretch.”  
“Don't call me that.” Sanguine snapped.  
“Why do you deny it? All these years you spent looking for power that was greater than hers, when you already had it inside you in the first place.”  
“You see much.” Sanguine said, quietly. He no longer hid the fact that he was impressed, but even if he had, there was probably no point. Whatever this imperial was, he was wise far beyond Sanguine's comprehension. It had been a long time since someone's presence had humbled him, but surprisingly he found the experience refreshing rather than annoying. Rowan was a wild spirit, a hermit, but he felt a strange kind of warmth towards him. Rowan intrigued him, the runes engraved in his dull red hide radiated power, even under the mess of his long mane. Sanguine was no longer tense, instead finding a strange comfort in the fact that Rowan would see through any front he put up. A slow smile crept onto larger dragons' face. 

“Excellent. You have decided to trust me. Very good.” Rowan rubbed his claws together, Sanguine seeing long, unkempt nails scrape past eachother.  
“Then let's prepare everything for a proper reading. Please, sit.”


	5. The fires of betrayal

His skin was on fire.

His blood coursed palpably through him, searing hot when Rowan's wings spread themselves out wide. There wasn't enough room in the lair for the full wingspan of the large imperial, but that didn't seem to bother him. His blind eyes darted wildly, the blood magic churning in his veins. Sanguine couldn't move, the power of Rowan's magic binding him in place. It was a haunting experience, yet primal in it's nature, making every inch of Sanguine's body tingle. The sensations and the smell of blood were overwhelming, to the point that Sanguine nearly passed out, bordering on the brink of consciousness. 

Vision going dark, he felt his whole body starting to lean more heavily on his legs, head spinning. He tried to signal to Rowan, but he was too caught up in the ritual and did not hear Sanguine's weak whisper, Sanguine's heart slowing dramatically, eyes fluttering shut and his body slumping to the squishy floor. The last thing he heard was a gasp, then darkness took hold. 

When he woke, he was covered in something stringy, soft and warm. He jerked his head up, blowing the substance out of his face. It appeared to be Rowan's mane, the hair covering both of them as Rowan had gone for a nap right next to him. Had the imperial passed out during the ritual as well? No, he was positioned too deliberately for that. Sanguine felt strained, his body hurt, a tad cold as well. It was that cold part that made him stay where he was. Rowan was a living furnace, warming him up with his body, that was coiled carefully around him. There was no harm in staying put a few more minutes, recover from the whole ordeal. 

Sanguine wasn't exactly sure what had happened, what Rowan had seen or done during the ritual, but he didn't feel different, apart from his weariness. Part of him wondered what had made him trust the ancient Imperial with this in the first place. Why had Rowan wanted to perform this ritual? What purpose did it serve? He supposed he would find out in due time, now that he hadn't actually been killed by it. He hadn't even really considered that he could die during this. And he was a bit shocked to find out he didn't actually care. He could've died, sure. But then what? His clan was rebelling against him, so what harm was there to just disappearing? Then they would finally find out how hard it was to lead a clan and lead it well. They thought Silas could do better? Let them find out the hard way how wrong they were. 

But he was alive, and he was pulled from his thoughts of self loathing by Rowan's stirring body, a dismayed moan rumbling through him. Sanguine took a look at the imperial's scarred face, wondering what had inflicted such terrible damage to his eyes in the first place. 

“Someone pressed my face into the Wyrmwound.” Rowan mumbled. Had he read Sanguine's mind?  
“Yes.”  
“Stop.” Sanguine said, frowning disturbedly.   
“I can't.” Rowan yawned, lifting his head. “We're connected now. That's what the ritual did.”  
“What? Why?” Sanguine asked, worming himself out from under Rowan's coil.   
“I don't know.” Rowan said with a shrug.   
“What do you mean you don't know?!” Sanguine snapped. “I didn't ask for this!”  
“Nor did you try to stop me. Or ask me what I was doing beforehand.” Rowan frowned with a hint of playful sass. He had him there, though.   
“Tch.” Sanguine tisked and turned his head away from Rowan's peering white eyes. He had no answer for him. 

“Were you hoping for an easy end by trusting a seedy seer to perform an obscure and possibly lethal ritual on you? Sorry for dissapointing.” Rowan said, his expression intrigued. “But it'd have been a waste of such a handsome dragon.”  
“Who dunked your face into the Wyrmwound?” Sanguine asked, ignoring the attempt at a compliment. Rowan rose to his feet, yawning again. He shook his body, his dirty mane dropping several bits of old dirt and whatever else was stuck in there. Sanguine felt a bit antsy, knowing that mane had just been draped over his body. He'd have to bathe when he got back. 

“I don't remember.” Rowan replied truthfully. “They're probably dead. At least I hope they are.”  
“Or what, you'll kill them?” Sanguine frowned. “And how did you survive being dipped in acid?”  
“I survived through Her will only. I saw Her great eye blinking back at me under the surface of that horrible pool. It was the last thing I ever saw with my own eyes.” Rowan said, Sanguine intrigued.  
“She's been speaking to me ever since.” Rowan leaned in closer. “She tries to speak to you as well, but you deny Her. Deny your legacy. It will catch up with you, wether you like it or not. You can't run forever.”  
“But what if I no longer see the point in running?” Sanguine spoke, done caring about how weak he'd probably look if he admitted to his depression. “Or the point of even continuing?”  
“So you're just giving up? Why? Sure your brother is rebellious, and your clan doubts you. Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. Rid yourself of the doubters, continue with only those who are true to the cause.” Rowan said, as if it was that simple. But Sanguine found himself liking the idea, none the less. There wasn't a time he remembered that he was ever without Silas. And going back to face him almost felt stifling, like it was choking him. Would it not be nice to be free of him? 

Rowan looked amused. “You are considering it.”  
Sanguine did not respond, still in his head about it. Rowan cocked his head and observed, wings out slightly so his rune eyes could see. Sanguine looked back at them and found that he was no longer weirded out by their stare, instead finding something strangely comforting about Rowan's presence.  
He'd gotten used to the carved runes, the blind stare, the slightly off focus angle of Rowan's head. And beneath that messy mane, and the scars, was a smart, powerful dragon. Wether it had been the ritual or the fact that he'd not experienced physical contact for so long, he felt something drawing him to the imperial.   
“Would you like to stay? Just a while longer.” Rowan asked, a warm tone to his voice. “We could talk a bit more. I'd like to know you better.”  
“Don't you already know everything?” Sanguine frowned.   
“Your blood, sure. But I'd like to listen to your tale from your mouth. You have a nice voice.” Rowan was hardly subtle, the years of loneliness had likely left him a bit socially awkward, but Sanguine did not mind. Instead, he smiled. “Thank you. I think I would like to stay a little bit longer.”  
“I'll get us something to eat. I'm famished after that bloody ritual.” Rowan grinned at his own pun and Sanguine rolled his eyes as he made himself comfortable, but couldn't stop a little smile. 

-

When he left Rowan's lair the following day he felt strangely rejuvenated, energetic. Rowan followed him outside, his wings spread as widely as possible to take in the environment.   
“It's been ages since I went outside.” Rowan stretched. “It seems the land has moved on, Her influence spreads slowly but surely.”  
“It does feel good to be back.” Sanguine admitted.   
“Does that mean you'll come back one day?” Rowan asked, a suggestive nature to his question.   
“Maybe. If you promise to wash your mane.” Sanguine teased with a wide grin, Rowan pushing against him. “Fine. You may have a point there.” he admitted, blowing strands of hair out of his face self-consciously. Sanguine chuckled, pushing back with affection.   
“I will come back.” he promised. “Soon.”  
“Good. I'll miss you.” Rowan said, surprisingly honest. “I always thought I would hate having company in my lair, but.. well, I don't hate yours.”  
“Just a mild dislike, then?” Sanguine suggested, Rowan chuckling.   
“No. I liked it. Be careful out there, and come back in one piece.” he said, with a hint of worry.   
“I've faced hotter fires than Silas, don't worry.” Sanguine comforted him. “I should leave if I'm to make it back in time before sunset though.”  
“Of course.” Rowan said, a little dissapointed. The two shared an affectionate headbutt before Sanguine stretched his wings and prepared for take off. Rowan watched him, echoing a soft roar of goodbye. He watched until Sanguine had become a dot on the horizon, sighing as he walked back into his lair. 

It was awfully empty here now, without Sanguine's presence to fill it. But it wouldn't stay empty for long, Rowan smiling as he curled up, magic filling his mind and body with a gentle glow. 

-

The lair was in uproar when Sanguine returned, Silas out front speaking to his clanmates. Khadiyah was next to him, the golden rings that decorated her horns gleaming in the sunlight. Sanguine was intrigued, landing a little bit further away to be able to listen in. 

“We were not meant for this. We don't belong here. And to stay here because Sanguine's got cold feet about returning home? I say we don't have to take his leadership at face value anymore. He's been leading us for a long time, not always to the best of results. You know that as well as I do.” Silas preached. “We shouldn't be denied our home because of an old man's fears.”  
“Aren't you just as old?” Lethe asked, with a frown.   
“We are two months apart!” Silas snapped. “It makes a world of difference. I am clearly more fit to lead. He's old, traumatized, scared. He's outlived his usefulness. We can be better without his melancholy dragging us down.” he spoke passionately, obviously committed. “We do this the way we know how. Like Plague dragons. Because that's what we are. Weakness can not be tolerated. Even if it comes from our leader. Especially if it comes from our leader.”

The other dragons seemed unsure, though some were openly nodding. The fire in the pit crackled hard and cast high shadows upon the rock behind them, coating everything in a hard orange glow. 

“Why are you so reluctant to stand up to him? Do you think he will harm you if you try? We are all faster, stronger, better fighters than him.” Khadiyah said, spirited. “He won't stand a chance if we all leap upon him. If we use the strenght of the pack.” She was supported by many, nods and murmurs travelling through the group. “His time is done. Join us, and together we will make a strong clan. A true Plague clan, under new leadership. A fresh start, with a Queen and King who honour our traditions!” she spread her wings and roared, others mimicking her. 

Ever a flair for the dramatic, Sanguine decided now was a great time to emerge from hiding.   
“Oh, am I interrupting?” he asked, glibly. Khadiyah pulled up her lip as a warning, but Sanguine was focused on Silas.   
“Sanguine.” Silas said, surprised. “You're back. I thought you'd left.”  
“But I've returned, as I always do, to my clan. What is this?” Sanguine looked around. “Gathered to hear the heresy my little brother is spouting? Are you all really so eager to leave?”  
“Honestly?” Almediha stepped forward, her gentle voice determined. “Yes. We were promised a new home. A new clan, a stronger clan. The wait has made us all anxious. Why do you even want to stay here?”  
“There is something here I must set right before I can move on.” Sanguine said. Nobody knew he was talking about Zephyr, and his mother Ziray, of course, but he didn't want to drag them into this now. So he kept it vague.  
“But we don't want to wait for that.” Azrael said, his gleaming green skin flickering in the light of the fire. Traitors blood.   
“They want to go home, Sange.” Silas said. “Just like me.”

For a long, tense moment, the two brothers stared at eachother. Sanguine had taken comfort in Silas' presence from the moment they met, knowing he had someone he could always trust at his back. After all, who better than his own brother to support him? He always enjoyed their snarky banter, even if it grated on him sometimes. Had they truly changed so much that this was the only direction they could go from here? Silas seemed convinced it was, eyes gleaming with purpose, his mate directly behind him, and behind her, their child. He supposed Silas had different priorities now. He couldn't even really hate him for it. But it stung none the less. For five years, they had faced their problems together. But it seemed that time was at an end. 

“Go, then.” Sanguine said, the words grave out of his mouth. “I don't want to fight you over this.”  
“Because you know you would lose.” Khadiyah hissed.   
“No. Because I don't want to hurt the one dragon that has been at my side through all of it, despite his reluctance to do so. Despite his rebellion. You are still my brother, and I will not turn to fratricide. If you must leave, if that is what you really want.. then go.”  
“Wait, you're not going to fight me on it?” Silas asked, taken aback.   
“You're right. I'm old. Tired. If you think you can do better, please do.” Sanguine said, shaking his head. “But I'd like to walk away with my life. Survive, adapt, overcome. I need this as much as you do. Perhaps to grow we need to go our own separate ways.”  
“..Yeah. Perhaps that's true.” Silas agreed. “Well.. I guess, goodbye then?” he still seemed baffled, unsure how to hold himself. 

“Goodbye, Silas. Lead them well.” Sanguine nodded solemnly, turning around. He retreated into the lair under the baffled stares of his clanmates, the silence respectful and stunned. This was not how anyone had expected this to go down. They were expecting a fight, or even just an argument. But Sanguine was done giving others what they wanted. He felt relief at the realisation that after tonight, nobody would be depending on him anymore. He could do what he wanted, truly, for the first time in many years. It gave him a sense of freedom, listening to his former clanmates leaving, the sound of their wings slowly disappearing into the night.


End file.
